


Unconditional

by malinaldarose (coralysendria)



Category: Earth: Final Conflict
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Episode Related, Episode: s02e02 Atavus, Episode: s03e06 Thicker Than Blood, Episode: s04e09 Phantom Companion, Gen, Ghosts, Mother-Son Relationship, Spirits, St. Patrick's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 19:02:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20317951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coralysendria/pseuds/malinaldarose
Summary: Five times Siobhan Beckett visited Liam Kincaid and one time she visited Ronald Sandoval.





	1. One

The pub was called, somewhat predictably, O'Malley's. A dark little place tucked away in a D. C. suburb, it had a dart board, dim lighting, richly polished wood everywhere -- and it was currently packed with St. Patrick's Day revelers. A tiny stage in one corner was occupied by a band called Green Amethyst whose specialty was Taelon-influenced Celtic rock. At the moment, they were taking a break, but the lack of music only made the noise of the crowd worse.

Liam winced slightly at shrill, drunken laughter practically in his ear. He and his companion for the evening had arrived early enough to grab a little table in a corner which he was defending against all comers while Siobhan went to the bar to get them a second round of Guinness. When she had approached his desk earlier -- her Companion was in town meeting with Da'an -- and asked him to accompany her that evening, he had agreed immediately. He had _assumed_ that it was an official outing. Only when she turned up at the Embassy wearing a flowing green dress with her red hair down around her shoulders had he realized otherwise.

She had interpreted the confusion on his face correctly. "I'm sorry, Major. Do you not celebrate Paddy's Day?"

"I've never really had an opportunity before," he replied after the tiniest of hesitations. He couldn't exactly tell her that he hadn't been alive last St. Patrick's Day. "I'd be honored to accompany you, Lieutenant."

"Siobhan," she replied with a smile. "We're off duty."

"Liam," he responded, slipping into his coat.

He watched Siobhan wend her way through the crowd with the drinks held high. Were she on duty, she'd march straight through the people, shoving them aside where necessary or emphasizing her authority with her skrill, her face a cold mask. But tonight, she was being polite as possible, gently moving past people, laughing. The long sleeves of her dress covered her skrill so that only the sharpest observers noticed it. And at this point in the evening's festivities, few of the people in O'Malley's were particularly sharp.

She arrived back at the table without spilling a drop, setting the pint glasses down, and shoving one toward Liam. 

"Thanks," he said. 

"You're welcome." She raised her glass. "Slàinte!"

"Slàinte agad-sa," he said, after searching his inherited memories for the correct response.

She grinned and took a deep draught of her stout; Liam sipped his. He had already determined that two was his limit; Augur had taken him out a couple of weeks ago and gotten him rip-roaring drunk. He really hadn't enjoyed it. For one thing, he couldn't afford to get that out of control -- who knew what he might say, or what his shaqarava might do -- and for another, the hangover was...unpleasant. He knew very well that Siobhan couldn't get drunk thanks to her CVI, but even without it, she could drink him under the table. He could remember her younger days just as well as she could.

"So, Liam," she said. "You've been on the job for a few weeks now, how are you finding it?"

"It's certainly interesting work," Liam replied. "I like Da'an; he's a good boss. And I really like being able to fly shuttles." He grinned at that. He _loved_ flying and was so glad that Lili had agreed to teach him.

"And you've had no difficulties without a CVI?" She was watching him rather closely at that.

He shrugged. "No."

"Have you considered requesting one?"

"Da'an doesn't want me to have one," he responded, knowing that would put an end to that line of questioning. This was the way she had started questioning Lili and gone on to become convinced that Lili was a Liberation spy -- which, of course, she was. Siobhan's certainty had led, in a roundabout way, not only to his birth, but to his own involvement with the Liberation. But if he invoked Da'an's preference in the matter, Siobhan would immediately stop questioning it. If it was the will of a Taelon, then as an implant with a fully functional motivational imperative, that was all she needed to know. "He seems to think that I can get the job done without one. I swore to protect him and he accepted that oath as sufficient."

He didn't need to mention that his lack of a CVI protected himself, Da'an, the Liberation, and both of his human parents.

Siobhan smiled. "Well, then. Enough talk about work. What do you think of the band?"

And from there the conversation wandered. Liam got Siobhan to tell him, her eyes sparkling, about her homeland, about her passion for rock climbing, about how she had first learned to read the runes. These things were all in his inherited memories, of course, but having her tell him about them was somehow better than just looking directly at the memories for himself.

Once the crowd had thinned out a bit -- tomorrow was a work day for most, after all -- and they were in less danger of losing their table, they played a few games of darts. It didn't take Liam long to get the hang of it, and by the time they agreed to quit, laughing, they were tied win for win and loss for loss.

Eventually, though, it was time to go. Liam gallantly escorted Siobhan back to her hotel, leaving her in the lobby with thanks for a good evening. She pressed an almost maternal kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you for accompanying me, Liam. See you tomorrow."

The following morning, Liam met Lili for breakfast on the way to the Embassy. "Where were you last night?" she asked, juggling her coffee and bagel. "Augur and I tried to get in touch with you."

He smiled. "It was St. Patrick's Day, Lili. I was doing what any good Irishman would do -- I was having a pint with a friend."


	2. Two

Liam was absorbed in reports when Lieutenant Beckett walked into Da'an's audience chamber. She marched past his desk without a word to him, her eyes on Da'an, who was reading his own reports; when he became aware of the Irish implant's approach, he waved away the datastream.

She stopped in front of his chair and offered the respectful Taelon greeting. Liam watched curiously from behind his desk. Neither his mother nor her Companion were on the schedule for today; in fact, he had thought that Siobhan was still in the hospital with a concussion after tangling with Da'an-as-Atavus a few days ago. His father, he knew, having checked earlier, would not be discharged for a few days yet, and would not be back to work for a couple of weeks beyond that. But Sandoval had been more seriously injured than Siobhan.

"Greetings, Lieutenant Beckett," Da'an acknowledged her, his voice as melodious as ever, giving no hint of the regression he had so recently undergone. "What brings you here today?"

"I've just been released from hospital, Da'an," she replied, "and while I was assured t hat you were all right, I needed to see for myself."

Da'an stood and stepped down from his raised seat. "As you see, Lieutenant. I am none the worse for the experience. I trust you are well?"

"Fine, thank you," Siobhan replied. "My mother was heard to remark on the hardness of my head more than once when I was a child."

"Still," Da'an said, with a glance toward Liam, who quickly became absorbed in his reports once more, "I feel that I must apologize to you for my actions."

"And I thank you for that. I actually wanted to apologize myself -- for not having faith in you," Siobhan said. "Both Captain Marquette and Major Kincaid insisted that somehow you could be reconnected to the Commonality, but I failed to believe that. All I could see was the dangerous creature that had to be destroyed. As a result, I might have killed you. I consider this a huge failure in my duty to the Companions." She lowered her eyes.

Liam looked up in surprise, but wisely said nothing.

Da'an tilted his head and gazed for a moment at the repentant protector. "Who told you that the Atavus was a dangerous creature, Lieutenant?"

She raised her head. "Zo'or."

"And who ordered you to destroy this creature?"

She blinked. "Zo'or."

"So you were given your information and instructions by the leader of the Synod himself, and you acted on them in good faith and in accordance with your motivational imperative. How, then, Lieutenant, have you failed the Companions?"

"I did not have faith."

Da'an's right hand curled up to his chest. "Faith is not required, Lieutenant. Adherence to the instructions of the Synod is. You have no need to apologize to me for doing your duty. If any apologies are due, I should be the one rendering them, for in my unthinking state I did seriously injure you."

"Perhaps," Beckett said with a small smile, "we could simply apologize to each other and have done."

Da'an matched her smile. "Perhaps so, Lieutenant." He turned back toward his chair, then paused. "Is there anything further?"

"In fact, there is. May I borrow Major Kincaid and his shuttle to get me back to London?"

Da'an blinked slowly. "I believe that would be acceptable. Major, please see the Lieutenant home."

Liam swung out of his chair, grabbing his leather jacket from the chair back and slipping into it. "Yes, Da'an." 

He led his mother up the curving ramps to the shuttle deck. When she was secured in a passenger seat, he activated the virtual glass shield and waved up the flight controls. Before long, they were in ID space on their way to London, and he could turn away from the controls for a moment.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly. "They said you had a concussion."

"Nothing serious," she said. "I wanted to apologize to you, too, Major, for not trusting you and Marquette. You _knew_ that there was a way to get Da'an back. How?"

Liam shrugged, uncomfortable. This was skirting too close to issues that would be dangerous for his mother. For him, too, as long as her motivational imperative held. "Intuition," he said, at last.

She huffed a laugh. "Most men don't believe in intuition." She cocked her head, looking at him with a thoughtful expression. "But you're not most men, are you." It wasn't a question. "An American army major with an Irish name who understands the runes," she mused. "No, not most men."

"I hope that's not a bad thing," Liam said, forcing himself to speak lightly.

She smiled. "No. Not necessarily a bad thing. Merely unusual, especially in an ex-soldier."

"You're an ex-soldier," Liam pointed out.

"Yes. But I'm a woman. I'm allowed to have intuition."

"Oh, well. When you put it like that," Liam said. The flight computer chimed its alert tone and he turned back to the controls. "Coming out of interdimensional." He dropped the shuttle deftly into the skies over London, making a sweeping turn over Tower Bridge toward the Embassy, and landing the shuttle smoothly. He dismissed both controls and virtual glass and handed his mother down from the shuttle.

"Thank you for the lift, Major," Beckett said. "I'd best be reporting in. I'm sure we'll be speaking again soon."

"My pleasure, Lieutenant," Liam replied. "Hope to see you soon."

She smiled over her shoulder at him and walked away. Liam watched her until she had left the shuttle pad, then climbed back into the shuttle and headed for D. C.

~*~*~

A few days later, Liam found a a brown-wrapped parcel sitting on his desk. Removing the plain wrapper, he found a small box with a folded note atop it. He recognized the handwriting immediately, both from his inherited memories and his contact with his mother as a fellow Companion Protector.

The note said only, "Thank you for returning Raido to me. I don't know if you have your own set, but you should, because intuition can always use a little help." It was signed, "Siobhan."

Liam opened the box with careful fingers to find a lumpy cotton pouch containing a set of inexpensive rune stones. His fingers gently stroked through the set, and on impulse, he pulled a stone out and turned it over...and smiled at the R-shaped Raido.

"Thank you, Mother," he whispered. He returned the rune to the pouch and tucked the whole thing into his jacket pocket for safe-keeping.


	3. Three

The monitors were silent.

It was odd, Siobhan thought. On television -- not that she had ever had much time to watch television, but her mum had always loved medical dramas -- the monitors in a hospital room always beeped. She supposed it was so that at the appropriate part of the drama, the _beep, beep, beep_ could resolve into a single ominous tone when the patient flat-lined. Which, of course, they always did, at least in the programs her mum favored. 

These monitors, though, made no more noise than did the young man attached to them. Liam had been unconscious for hours after an attack on a science symposium attended by Da'an. He lay pale and unmoving in the bed, the tubing of a nasal cannula snaking across his face, the monitor leads attached to his bare chest, an IV line in his right hand.

The attackers, taking their cue from the terrorists who had kidnapped Da'an several months previously, had released an anesthetic gas into the hall. What their aim had been was unclear; their plot failed, largely due to Liam. The building was equipped with a portal, so Liam, at first unaffected, had portalled Da'an back to the Embassy, then evacuated as many people from the hall as possible before finally succumbing to the gas himself. But while the remaining attendees had awakened hours ago, Liam had not. Dr. Curzon, the physician on duty, could not explain why.

Siobhan, summoned from London to assist with rounding up the attackers, had only intended to look in on her colleague, but something about the way he lay in the bed, appearing so young and vulnerable, had touched her. She had remained, keeping watch by his bedside. 

Her relationship with the major was an odd one. She had gravitated toward him partly because of his Irish name -- though plenty of Americans had Irish names -- and partly because of his knowledge of the runes. But also, there was just something about him; she liked him. She liked that he had been so honest with her about his mother when they had been partnered during the search for Da'an-as-Atavus. She liked his faith in Da'an. Some of her colleagues, assuming that she was interested in him because he was good-looking, had teased her about the relationship. But she had no romantic interest in Liam; she found the very thought oddly distasteful. No, she was simply friends with him. Nothing more, nothing less. And right now, she was worried about her friend. 

The door opened, interrupting her thoughts. Siobhan looked over, expecting to see Dr. Curzon and was surprised instead to find Ronald Sandoval framed in the doorway. For his part, Zo'or's protector seemed equally surprised to see her.

"Lieutenant Beckett," he said, glancing at the unconscious man in the bed. "I was not aware you were still in Washington."

"I'm off-duty," she said, "so I may be where I choose."

"And you choose _here?_" His gesture encompassed the major, the hospital room, and the entire city.

She shrugged. "I was concerned about Major Kincaid."

Sandoval nodded, as though he expected nothing less. He turned to go.

"And why are you here, Agent Sandoval?" she challenged, not wanting to see him leave. She might harbor no romantic inclinations where Liam was concerned, but Ronald Sandoval? Now that was a horse of an entirely different color.

"The major is under my command; it is part of my duty to check on his condition."

"You could have done that from the Mothership," she answered. 

"You could have done it from London," he parried. "So why are you here?"

She smiled. "Perhaps I was hoping to run into you."

Sandoval closed his eyes and huffed a laugh. "You're incorigible," he said, his tone affectionate. Siobhan smiled inwardly. Slowly, but surely, step by tiny step, she was breaking him down, like waves against a rocky shore. He moved to stand next to her, contemplating the still figure in the bed. "I spoke to Dr. Curzon and Dr. Park."

"Dr. Park?"

"She's the major's personal physician. Dr. Curzon consulted her."

"And what did they say? Do they know why he hasn't woken yet?"

Sandoval nodded. "Over-exposure to the drug in the gas -- after he was forced to stop holding his breath -- combined with a slight allergic reaction. They say he'll be fine, but it will take time for him to shake it off."

Siobhan breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness."

Sandoval raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you liked him so well."

"Jealous, Sandoval?" Siobhan asked with a smile. At his exasperated expression, she shrugged. "He's a good lad. He reminds me of my brother."

"Lad? He's almost the same age as you."

Siobhan's brows drew together. "I know," she said slowly, her green eyes on Liam's face. "'Tis strange.... For some reason, I have always thought of him as younger."

"I don't imagine the major needs you to mother him," Sandoval said mildly.

"And nor do I. We're friends. Have you no friends, Sandoval?" She looked up at him.

Sandoval shrugged uncomfortably. "Who has time?"

"Would you two keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep here," a raspy voice said.

Siobhan's eyes went instantly to the bed where Liam was blinking dazedly at the IV line in his hand.

"What happened?" He looked around. Siobhan wasn't certain he was actually seeing the hospital room. "Da'an?"

"Da'an is safe, Major," Sandoval said crisply. Liam looked in his direction, some sense coming back into his gaze. "So are the others, and the attackers have been caught. You were the only real casualty."

"Oh, good." Liam sighed and his eyes slid closed; his hand fell back to his side. "Maybe I'll take a nap...." His breathing evened out, indicating he had fallen asleep -- but this was a more natural sleep rather than the heavily depressed unconsciousness of before.

"We should leave him to it," Siobhan said, rising from her chair. "And we should let the doctor know that he woke up."

Sandoval nodded. "Have you eaten? Would you care to join me for dinner?"

Siobhan smiled. "That would be lovely." She glanced back at Liam. It was safe to leave him now. He was going to be all right. She accompanied Sandoval out the door.


	4. Four

It was late when Liam got back to his apartment -- the apartment that Augur had given him. His mind shied away from the hurt there; he could understood why Augur had betrayed him and the Resistance, but understanding did nothing to alleviate the pain. Worse, though, was the pain of Da'an's betrayal, because ultimately, that was his own fault. Liam had had no choice about trusting Augur; the hacker had witnessed his birth and subsequent rapid maturation. Augur had crafted his false identity. Augur had known all of Liam's secrets for Liam's entire life.

But Da'an.... The choice to trust Da'an had been Liam's. And so the fault for the massacre of the Resistance leaders was his. He put a hand to his chest, pressing down on his breastbone, as if that would in any way ease the very real pain he felt. Now that he was safe in his own space, he allowed the tears he had been ruthlessly suppressing to fall. Da'an was his friend, his mentor, his surrogate parent. Da'an had kept his secrets, protected him from the Synod who would kill him for merely being _part_ Kimera, and Liam...Liam _loved_ Da'an. The affection he had been unable to give to his human father -- his only remaining parent -- he had transferred to Da'an, his surrogate parent. Da'an had been there with advice and help whenever his Kimera abilities became too much for Liam to handle.

Da'an had knowingly supplied help to the Resistance.

Had betrayed them.

And it was Liam's fault, for ignoring the warnings. Jonathan had warned him. Lili had warned him. Hell, even Be'li had warned him, but his faith in Da'an had been unshakeable.

At least...at least the blood donation for Sandoval had gone off without a hitch, and Sandoval was going to recover. Something good would come out of these last few days.

But that only brought up another problem: the way Renee had reacted to finding out that Liam was part Kimera. Liam had pushed the hurt away at the time; he had too many other things to deal with just then, but now.... Though she had saved his and Augur's lives during the crackdown, Renee had always been more like a capricious ally than a true friend. Still, Liam had liked her. Of course, he had liked Augur and Da'an, and look where _that_ got him. Maybe it was better that Renee showed her prejudice and got it out of the way so that Liam could let go of the hope of friendship and keep her at arm's length.

He dropped into the black leather recliner under the window without even bothering to remove his coat. God, he was tired. He'd fought Pratt when he was already two pints short of blood, then gone on to have an emotional confrontation with Da'an before returning to the hospital. Dr. Curzon had looked at him in concern, eyes narrowing at the cut on his cheek from Pratt's sword, but said nothing except to assure him that his father would recover. Despite his Kimera constitution, Liam was exhausted. Wrung out. He needed sleep, but he could tell from the way that his brain was chasing its own tail that sleep was not going to come. He could go through into the Flat Planet, he supposed; maybe something with alcohol in it would slow the circling thoughts enough for sleep. On the other hand, that would mean dealing with other people, and he just...couldn't. Not tonight.

He sighed heavily, and got to his feet again, removing his coat and tossing it down on the recliner. He dried his tears on his sleeve, carefully avoiding the hot line of the sword cut. He moved around the apartment, then, lighting the many thick white candles scattered here and there. 

With the candles lit, the apartment's hard, modern lines were softened. Liam didn't actually like the way Augur had set up the place, but he spent so little time there that it hadn't really mattered. Now, though, he might have to see about changing things to suit himself -- to remind him less that the space had been Augur's. 

He sank cross-legged to the middle of the floor, closed his eyes, and breathed. Inhale. Pause. Exhale. Pause. He counted breaths until the slow rhythm became automatic and his mind floated away from it. Memories rose: Da'an's face when Liam confronted him. Augur's fear of Pratt -- and fear for Liam. Renee's disgust. Sandoval's ashen face in the hospital.

Liam allowed the images to come, but instead of dwelling on them, he allowed them to flow past and eventually, they ceased. Liam floated in silence for a long time, until he became aware of music. Wordless crooning, quiet and comforting. And with it, the touch of soft fingers on his hair.

He opened his eyes to find himself lying on his couch with his head in Siobhan Beckett's lap. It was she who was crooning, her fingers gentle and feather-light in his hair.

He turned into her, put his arms about her waist, and broke down sobbing, clinging to her like the child he sometimes wished he was. 

He wept for what seemed like hours while his mother held him, continuing to stroke his hair and croon nonsense. At last, though, the tears ended. Liam pushed away from Siobhan, sitting up and putting his feet on the floor. His eyes felt like hot coals and his head ached. The cut on his cheek stung from the salt in his tears, and he was pretty sure it was seeping blood again. The ache under his breastbone, though, seemed to have receded. It was still there, but for the moment, at least, it was manageable.

"You should drink something, my lad, and perhaps take an aspirin," Siobhan said in her musical voice. "And you should definitely take care of that cut; you don't want it getting infected."

"I will." Liam knew if he got up, though, his mother would vanish. He scooted to the end of the couch, turning to face her. He pulled his legs up and rested his chin on his knees. "Thank you."

She nodded, a single dip of her chin. "I will always come when you need me, Liam. I would have done the same before, had I but known." 

_Before she died,_ Liam understood. But if she had known he was her son before her death, the knowledge would have _caused_ her death. It was why he couldn't tell her until she was already dying in his arms from the failure of her CVI.

"Tell me what troubles you," Siobhan said. She turned on the couch and matched Liam's posture, back against the arm, knees drawn up, each of them bracing their bare toes on opposite sides of the couch's middle cushion. Unlike Liam, who was still dressed in his work clothes -- dark jeans, dark shirt -- Siobhan was casually dressed in blue jeans and a long-sleeved white tee, her red hair loose about her shoulders. Liam had seldom seen her in anything other than the severe uniform-style clothing she favored while on duty as a Companion Protector. The outfit made her seem younger. 

He hesitated. He had not told his mother that he was part of the Resistance. He had had time only to let her know that he was her son by Ha'gel, not the other circumstances of his birth -- such as his second father being Ronald Sandoval, although he suspected she knew that part. As a Companion Protector with a functional motivational imperative, she would have found his actions traitorous, and he could not have borne seeing the look she would have given him. On the other hand, her motivational imperative had broken down before her death, and she had herself told him that he must fight the Taelons.

She nudged his bare foot with one of her own. "Come, my son. You know you can tell me anything." 

Liam took a deep breath and told her everything. Not knowing whether she yet remembered it or not, he related the circumstances of his birth, how he had felt compelled to replace William Boone as both Da'an's protector and agent for the Resistance, how Da'an had acted as his mentor and surrogate parent, how Augur had always been like a big brother. 

How both had betrayed him and the Resistance.

How he was responsible for the deaths of the cell leaders who had fallen for Da'an's trap.

And then he told her about his human father, the genetic blood disease that had been killing him, and Liam's donation of blood to save his life.

The only time his voice wavered was when he spoke of Renee Palmer's reaction to the revelation of his heritage, but he only paused, firmly clamped down on his emotions so as not to start bawling like a baby again, and continued speaking.

When he finally finished, there was silence for a long moment. He kept his eyes on his knees for fear of what he would see in his mother's face.

"Oh, my son," Siobhan Beckett said at last, a note of profound sorrow in her voice.

Startled, Liam looked up to find the same sorrow mirrored in her green eyes. She leaned forward, reaching a hand toward him. He grasped it, her small hand enclosed in his own. It was amazing how much comfort there was in such a small gesture.

"No wonder you weep, then, my son," she said. "'Tis more than enough to bring the strongest person to their knees."

"You don't mind that I'm the leader of the Resistance?"

She squeezed his hand. "Liam, did I not tell you to fight them? 'Tis unexpected news, to be sure, but not unwelcome. You are my son and whatever you may do, I will be proud of you."

"What should I do, Mum?"

"Mum," she repeated with a smile. "Now there is something I had never thought to hear."

"And I never thought I'd get to say it," Liam responded with a lopsided smile of his own. "I don't know what to do, Mum. I'm tempted to chuck it all and run away."

"If that is truly what you wish, Liam," she said promptly, "then go. You would certainly be safer if you weren't walking amongst Taelons every day -- especially when at least one of them knows the truth about you."

"He said he wouldn't hurt me, Mum. Everyone around me, apparently, but not _me_ because I have some grand destiny -- that no one will tell me about!" Liam's frustration with the mysteries of his birth and background manifested in a shout. His fingers tightened convulsively on Siobhan's. "I swore an oath, Mum, and I meant every word. I would have died to save him, and he repaid me with betrayal -- and for what? To regain Zo'or's trust? He talks and talks about entwined destinies, how humans and Taelons cannot live without one another, but when it comes to human deaths to maintain his position, he doesn't hesitate." Tears were running down his face again; he scrubbed at his eyes with his free hand.

"No matter how kind he is to you, my son -- for which I must give him his due honor -- in the end, Da'an remains a Taelon, and must always think like a Taelon. While linked to the Commonality, he can never truly understand what it means to be human -- and you cannot sever his link to the Commonality," she added wryly.

"We've been _there,"_ Liam agreed. He sighed. "If there is still a Resistance in the morning, then they will still need me, even if not as the leader. If I can find Hayley, I'll talk to her. As for Da'an, his actions make it much harder to keep my oath, but they do not release me from it." 

"And what of your friends?"

Liam shrugged. "I can understand why Augur did what he did, I guess, and while I am angry -- and will be for a while, I think -- I can forgive him. Eventually. He's certainly doing his best to make amends. Renee -- Renee is harder. The way she looked at me...it was like I suddenly had slime on my face or something."

"Prejudice is a difficult thing to deal with, Liam," Siobhan said. "Miss Palmer has fallen into the mindset that 'alien' equals 'evil.' You have no control over her actions, only over your own. It will be difficult for her to accept that you are not entirely human, but you can only be yourself. She will either accept it or she will not. That decision is hers to make."

Liam nodded and met his mother's eyes. "How did you get so wise, Mum?"

She laughed. "I worked hard at it, my son. And so must you." She looked at him critically. "Are you feeling better, then?"

Liam sighed and nodded. "Yes. A little."

"A little is better than naught," Siobhan said. She released his fingers and swiveled so that her feet were back on the floor and patted her lap. "Lie down again, my son, and let your mother sing you to sleep -- for sleep you need."

Liam complied, resting his head in his mother's lap with a sigh. "Thanks, Mum. I love you."

"You're entirely welcome, my son. And I love you, too. Now hush. Close your eyes."

As Liam did so, he felt her fingers in his hair again, soft and comforting. She began to quietly sing -- an old Gaelic lullaby that her gran had sung to her; he found the memory in his own head, and drifted off to sleep with the strangely-doubled sound, one strand in memory, one strand in the present.

For this night, at least, his sleep was deep, healing, untroubled by dreams. And when he woke in the morning, alone on his couch, he had a moment of peace to sustain him before his responsibilities and cares caught up with him again.


	5. Five

In Liam's early days, he had spent any spare time he had exploring the Mothership, getting to know the various decks and sections, corridors and connections, and hidden nooks and crannies. It was a useful to know his way around not only as a Companion Protector, but as a Resistance member. During one of these explorations, he had come across a small, rounded, empty room. Like the rest of the ship, the interior walls were formed of violet-blue bioslurry, but the curving outer wall was transparent, affording a magnificent view, sometimes of the stars, sometimes of the Earth or the moon, depending on the ship's orbit on any given visit. He had no idea what purpose, if any, the nook served. This part of the ship was not well-traveled, so it was quiet and peaceful. He had never seen anyone, either human or Taelon, in the space.

It had quickly become his favorite spot aboard the ship; he visited the room at least once a week to sit and think or gaze at the stars. Sometimes he imagined that the Mothership had grown the space especially for him.

Today, the nook looked out onto deep space. Liam sat on the floor, arms wrapped around drawn-up legs, chin resting on his knees, his green gaze fixed on the stunning vista. Da'an would likely be busy with the Synod for at least another hour, and he had no other pressing duties, so he had time to sit and contemplate the view. The stars burned in rainbow hues against the velvety backdrop of the night; from here, he could see all the colors of flame -- red, blue, yellow, white.

The sight soothed something deep in him, something of his Kimera heritage, perhaps. Whatever it was, Liam felt a rare moment of contentment.

"You look like a great child, sitting there like that."

"It's not like there's a chair, Mum," Liam said with a smile.

"No, I suppose not," Siobhan Beckett said. She moved over to settle onto the floor next to Liam, her shoulder brushing against his. "'Tis good to see you at peace for once, my son."

"It's good to be able to _be_ at peace," Liam replied, knowing that it wouldn't -- couldn't -- last. He didn't think peace was his destiny. Ha'gel had as much as told him so when he had seen his father's spirit in his near-death experience a year or so ago.

Which brought up an interesting question.

"Mum, do you ever see Ha'gel?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her turn toward him with a raised brow. "Now what would you be asking a thing like that for?"

"Well...it's just...you're dead. Ha'gel's dead. I thought...."

"You thought we were sitting around some heavenly garden having tea, did you?"

Liam smiled in response to the laughter in her voice. "Well...sort of," he admitted.

"The afterlife is much more complicated than that, my son, as you should well know, having tasted of it yourself." She was silent a moment. "But, yes, I do sometimes. I should perhaps not tell you this, but the spirits of the Kimera are not simply vanished out of the universe. They exist on a different plane from the earthly one you currently inhabit. 'Tis where I exist now, as well -- how else do you think I can watch over you?"

"Trying to keep me out of trouble?" Liam teased.

"Oh, my son," Siobhan replied, her voice full of mock despair. "There's little use in that. Children are _meant_ to be in trouble. 'Tis the curse of every parent who tells their wee ones, 'I hope you have a child that's just like you!'" She emphasized each word with a finger poked into his shoulder.

"Am I?" he asked wistfully, keeping his eyes on the stars.

"Just like me?" she asked in surprise. "I had not considered it before, but...yes. I believe that you are. You are a fighter like me, fighting for the chance of peace. I entered the Taelons' service because they brought peace to my homeland. Your inquisitive side comes from your father, though. Both of your fathers, in truth, for Ha'gel was a scientist, and Sandoval has always excelled at solving puzzles."

With a gentle touch on his chin, she turned Liam's face toward her. "Liam-my-lad, I know that you wish you could connect with your family, and I wish you could, too. I honestly think you could approach your grandmother; she'd adore you. But I can understand why you might prefer not to; safer for you and safer for them. But I have told you many a time that I am here for you. I will come when you need me. Sometimes, even when you don't. Ha'gel, too, watches over you; never doubt it."

Liam smiled crookedly. "Thanks, Mum."

She returned his smile, squeezing his arm affectionately. "You are entirely welcome, my son. Now, then. I have not had much opportunity for stargazing. Name them for me, if you please."

Liam laughed. "I don't know them all, but I'll do my best." He spent the next hour pointing out and naming stars for his mother, until his global chirped for his attention. He unhooked it from his belt and opened it; as expected, it was Da'an summoning him. 

When he looked up again, his mother had vanished -- but he knew that she wasn't far away. He climbed to his feet and returned to his duties.


	6. Plus One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter shows canonical, onscreen torture.

It was very late when Sandoval returned to his private room at the Kobe Club. Zo'or had been particularly difficult and had kept him standing uselessly on the bridge of the Mothership for hours after his failure to catch Malley -- though if Major Kincaid was to be believed, the Mothership had taken care of the problem herself. If her job was to protect the Taelons and their mission, perhaps someday, she'd take care of Zo'or as well, since his madness endangered everything. Picturing the Mothership's defenses doing away with Zo'or was a nice fantasy.

In the meantime, though, Sandoval didn't want to think about any of it. Oblivion called him.

Not that these sessions necessarily helped; the world was still waiting for him when he came out the other side. But at least in the interim, he didn't have to think, didn't have to run from nightmares, didn't have to bow and scrape to Zo'or.

A woman in geisha makeup entered the room with the memory block equipment, setting it up silently and efficiently. The club's staff had learned not to speak to him unless he spoke first. His last thought as blackness overtook him was to wonder how Major Kincaid had managed to get all the other protectors on his side when they so obviously loathed him.

Oblivion ended.

He found himself aboard the Mothership. Strapped to a table before him was Liam Kincaid. Sandoval watched with savage enjoyment as the nerve conduction field engaged and electricity shot through the major's body; Kincaid's back arched and he screamed. Sandoval sent current coursing through the major's body a second, then a third time. When it ended, the major was only semi-conscious, and finally -- finally! -- that annoying smirk was wiped off his face. Sandoval smiled in satisfaction.

"Is this what you have become?" a voice asked conversationally. 

Sandoval looked up to find Siobhan Beckett watching him from Kincaid's other side. She stared at him with no trace of her normal warmth or wicked humor in her green eyes. 

"You're a Companion Protector, Ronald Sandoval. That does not give you the right to torture an innocent."

"Kincaid? Innocent?" Sandoval scoffed. "Hardly. He's Resistance at the very least, and most likely ANA as well."

"Have you proof of these accusations?"

"I don't need proof," Sandoval said irritably. "I know it."

"Says the man who insisted that I had to have ironclad proof before accusing Lili Marquette." She looked down at Kincaid who appeared unaware of her presence. Or Sandoval's for that matter. 

"Father," he was murmuring, his green eyes unfocused. "Father. Why?"

"Daddy issues, Kincaid?" Sandoval sneered.

"Had you a father like his, you, too, would have daddy issues." Siobhan's voice was colder than he had ever heard it.

She waved a hand and Sandoval experienced a sudden disorientation. When his head cleared, he found himself standing at Siobhan's side...and across the major's body was another Sandoval, a Sandoval whose face was twisted with unholy glee. He loomed over Kincaid who shrank away from him in fright. 

Sandoval frowned. This...this was not what had happened. Yes, he had rather enjoyed testing the major's loyalty to the Taelons, and he had been quite a bit more forceful about it than he would have been with any other of his subordinates. But the major hadn't cringed away from him, hadn't looked at him in anything other than defiance -- while he was still capable of doing so, anyway.

And then...in the major's place lay a small, terrified child. The green-eyed boy wailed, calling out for his father. Sandoval watched in horror as his own hand moved toward the switch that controlled the power.

"No!" He lunged around the table toward his doppelganger, but he could not reach him....

Everything stopped. When he looked again, it was once more Kincaid on the table. The doppelganger was gone. 

"What is this?"

"This is Liam Kincaid's nightmare, Sandoval."

"I don't understand."

"Do you not? You are not usually so slow on the uptake, Sandoval." There was a hint of scorn in Siobhan's voice. "Well, then. Let me spell it out for you. Two years ago the Kimera Ha'gel escaped from a stasis pod and led us a merry chase. Do you recall it?"

"Of course I do. What's your point?"

Her smile lacked any mirth. "Impatient, aren't we? You'll recall, then, that Ha'gel borrowed your form. Quite possibly a mistake. Boone would have been a far better choice."

Sandoval flushed. Everyone had always preferred William Boone to him -- Marquette, Da'an, the Synod -- everyone except Siobhan. Until now....

"While Ha'gel was wearing your form, he Joined with me. Liam, there, is the result. He is our son, Ronald Sandoval. Mine. Ha'gel's. _Yours._"

The scene around them faded away, but not before Sandoval finally made the connection. Green eyes. Siobhan Beckett's green eyes in Liam Kincaid's face. All of the times Kincaid had saved his life, despite his own enmity. How Kincaid had failed to kill him aboard that cargo ship, even though he could have -- _should_ have -- done so. How Kincaid had reacted to him when he had been in the hospital....

"The mysterious blood donation," he said.

"Yes," Siobhan responded. 

They were in the passage tomb under Strandhill Circle, where Sandoval and Siobhan had had their first private conversation. Bright work lights illuminated the ancient mosaic discovered there behind the rough stone walls. The Taelon Ma'el, surrounded by holy figures from many cultures, gazed beneficently into the distance. The work lights abruptly cut out, plunging the chamber into profound darkness. Sandoval could see nothing; even CVI-enhanced vision required _some_ light to work with. He shivered in the chill air. 

Siobhan's voice sounded like a bell, echoing strangely in the darkness. "You would not have been alive today without Liam Kincaid. He has saved your life so many more times than you even know. And look what you have done to him! You have abused him, betrayed him, tried to kill him more times than I can count. And now, this -- tortured him for no reason except your desire to hurt him."

As she spoke Sandoval began to see light. Blue-white energy coursed through the chamber walls like tiny rivers of cold fire. Siobhan stood before him, her eyes burning with emerald flames. She, too, was illuminated from within by coursing energy; as he watched, fascinated, tiny forks of lightning began to play over her body. The energy built, lifting her red hair in a wild halo around her head, transforming her from the woman he knew to a vengeful Celtic warrior-goddess.

"I am _very angry_ with you, Ronald Sandoval!" 

Her skrill arm came up; the creature hissed angrily, its head glowing with Siobhan's rage. She had demonstrated to him in this very chamber her exquisite control over her skrill. Light flared around her fist and shot toward him -- not the love tap she'd given him before, but a killing blast. 

His hands flew up in an instinctive, futile attempt to shield himself....

Sandoval's eyes opened.

The same expressionless woman was lifting the cybernetic device from his forehead. She met his eyes only long enough to ascertain that he was suffering no disorientation or other ill effects of the memory block, then stowed the equipment in its case and silently left. A tray of tea steamed on the stand by the wall. He shook his head; the process didn't seem to have worked as well as it ought to have this time. He would have to have them check the equipment; that unit might be faulty. Something had disturbed him, but whatever it was was already fading away, like any other dream. 

Sandoval sat up and reached for his tea.


End file.
